As much as the stallion disdained accepting aid from anyone due to some jaded aspect of pride — especially from the likes of a mare — he was not a fool. He was well aware of the asperity of his current condition, and it would have been profoundly devoid of intellectual acuity if he had rejected their assistance. He was not quite as stubborn as some made him out to be. He yearned to go back to his homeland, to his brothers, to his fellow warriors, but in his heart he knew he may never again be able to. He dreaded to know what they would have to say of his cowardice if he were ever to speak of his plight, and decided being assumed dead was far more appealing than any such fate.

Perhaps this was the beginning of a whole new chapter in his life.

His thoughts were disrupted by a sudden aching pain that deluged his mind followed swiftly by profound vertigo. For a moment his vision was blurred, obscured by a haze of blackness and then confusion. He recovered as far as his body would allow, and continued. His movements were diffident, each stride occupied with a drastic limp.

The support of the two at his sides released an immense burden, but it still required quite a bit of energy just to speak in an intelligible manner, therefore he refrained from talking unless it was necessitated of him. Had they not arrived when they did, he would likely be lying in the dirt, life slowly oozing from his hemorrhaging anatomy. He was aware of this fact, and although it was a mare, he irrevocably owed her, both of them actually, whatever the debt may be. He would worry about it later, of course.

He listened to the aureate stallion's voice as he called out into the air, to what, Ascendancy was not entirely sure. The lyrics of Torasin's voice were difficult to discern, but the shadowy brute eventually managed to do so, detecting the word 'medic' amongst the vocalisms. In all honesty, he didn't care if she came. He would rather die than to live with the reminder that he had fled. How dishonorable it was. Inwardly, distress and precariousness arrested his mind. He should have died back there, honorably. Why hadn't that happened? What had possessed him to flee? Anger welled up inside him, the emotion clearly visible upon the chiseled panes of his convex face.